


Spring Breaking

by Tangerine



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men: First Class (Comics)
Genre: Ableism, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coming of Age, Drunk Sex, Embedded Images, First Time, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Bobby Drake/Original Character(s), Minor Warren Worthington III/Original Character(s), Pining, Sex Education, Sharing a Bed, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 05:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21049058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangerine/pseuds/Tangerine
Summary: After Iceman forgets to buy his plane ticket, he and Angel finally make it to spring break. With the future looming before them, they take a much needed vacation. Between all the relaxing, eating and drinking, they start down a path of discovery... for both of them.Or, Bobby and Warren do spring break with predictable results.Written for the 2019 Marvel Big Bang.





	Spring Breaking

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Spring Breaking- Art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21042959) by [BlitheFool](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlitheFool/pseuds/BlitheFool). 

> Art is by the talented [blithefool](https://blithefool.tumblr.com/). Thank you so much for the [beautiful illustration](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21042959/) of Bobby and Warren enjoying their spring break! 
> 
> Note: the art is embedded in the story and is NSFW due to shirtless men and revealing shorts. 
> 
> Thanks to Placidia for the beta. You were totally right: I didn't need so many commas and that missing 'of' was pretty important. Any remaining mistakes are entirely my own.
> 
> See the end notes for further explanations of the Drunk Sex, Alcohol, Internalized Homophobia and Ableism tags.

"You okay in there, buddy?"

"Fuck off," Warren shouted back through the door.

This wasn't how Bobby had thought his spring break would start, but there had been a few logistical things to sort out before they got down to, like, spring-breaking in earnest. If spring breaking was even a word, which Bobby didn't think it was. But the fact remained that while he and Warren had finally made it down to Cancun, which was a feat in itself, they'd arrived without passports, clothes or – in Warren's case – certain essential items that hid a pair of wings. 

The only saving grace was the emergency credit card that Warren had sewn into his uniform.

Warren had stayed outside when Bobby went into the store to buy a ridiculous number of belts, two sets of button-up shirts, shorts, and flip flops. The sheer number of belts had been absurd, and he'd probably laugh for the rest of his life thinking about the expression on the clerk's face as he packed everything into a large paper bag. 

"Seriously, dude, did you fall in?" Bobby asked, sitting cross-legged on the curb as he watched swarms of drunken college students circle each other in some sort of complicated mating pattern that he hadn't quite figured out for himself. It looked like an awful lot of work to get laid. 

Though Bobby still kind of wanted to. In a vague, abstract way that involved his penis. 

He almost missed when Warren cracked the door. "I need help," he admitted, sounding pained.

"Jeez, finally," Bobby said, jumping up. He brushed the dust off the seat of his new shorts.

Inside the bathroom the air was stale and hot, and it smelled like someone had peed everywhere but the toilet bowl. Warren had his shorts on – a perfect fit, Bobby noticed with pride – but his shirt was draped precariously over the soap dispenser. Probably a wise idea, he thought, pushing a clump of soggy toilet paper out of the way with his foot, careful not to touch it with his toes.

The sight of Warren standing there, with fists full of belts, sent Bobby into hysterics again.

"Will you just fucking help me?" Warren said, annoyed. The belts flopped around in his hands like eels, and Bobby laughed harder, the tears making it hard to see. He wished Hank was here. Hank would find this as funny as he did. "Dammit, Bobby, _come on_." Warren stamped his foot.

"Hold your horses, dude," Bobby told him, pulling one of the belts out of Warren's grasp, careful not to end the hilarious scene too early. "You almost never look ridiculous. Let me have this."

"This was such a bad idea," Warren said to no one in particular. "I'm an idiot for inviting you."

"You totally are," Bobby cackled, wiping the tears from his eyes. As his vision cleared, Warren's bare torso came into view. Golden skin glistening with sweat, pecs that Bobby could never hope to achieve for himself. The sight sobered him a little. "Uh, so how do you want me to do this?"

"I'll hold them in as tight as I can. Do the upper belt first," Warren instructed, drawing his wings close to his body, lifting his arms. Bobby took the belt in his hands and circled it around Warren's chest, buckling it with clumsy fingers, which he blamed on the surplus of sweat.

"That good?" Bobby asked, eyes fixed on Warren's shoulder. 

"Tighter," Warren replied, sucking in as Bobby moved the buckle back by three holes. "Okay, now take another two belts, and loop them over my shoulders." Bobby started doing as Warren asked, but then Warren made an aggravated noise at him and said, "no, no, like bra straps."

"What the hell do I know about bra straps?" Bobby snapped.

"Evidently nothing," Warren snarled back. 

With a bit more snide instruction – seriously, Warren could be such a dick sometimes, it was an important thing to remember about him – Bobby finally got what Warren was getting at. Mercifully, the last few belts – mid-chest, waist and dangerously low on his hips – went on easily.

"Why did you buy so many belts?" Warren asked, still holding a few in his hands.

"You told me to," Bobby replied, exasperated. He had to get out of this awful, smelly bathroom. 

Warren tugged on his shirt and started buttoning it up. "I didn't mean this many."

"Well, maybe I wanted one for myself," Bobby said, snatching one out of his hand. Just to spite him, he put it on. He looked like a deeply uncool dad, but whatever, it was the principle of the thing. "A man can never have too many belts, you know. My dad says that every Father's Day."

"I bet he does," Warren remarked idly. Rolling his shoulders experimentally, he took a shallow breath then looked in the mirror and combed a hand through his hair, shaking it out loosely. His expression was pained, but Bobby didn't need to ask what the problem was. It was the belts. 

They still had five left over. At least he knew what he was getting everyone else for Christmas. 

After a few more minutes of preening, Warren finally turned to him. "Do I look okay?" 

"You look good," Bobby muttered, flushing. It was sickeningly hot in there. He blamed it on that. 

"This is going to be so much fun," Warren told him, stuffing his uniform into the paper bag. 

Bobby nodded, following him out of the bathroom. Squinting at the sun, he took a deep breath then let it go. The air smelled much better outside if nothing else. He looked over at Warren, who was talking to a bemused cab driver in a mix of confident English and high school level Spanish. From what little Bobby understood, Warren was asking for directions. It involved a lot of emphatic gesturing and made Warren look like a total dork again. This day just kept on giving. 

So that was how their spring break started. Bobby was just surprised they had made it there at all.

* * *

When Warren had asked him if he wanted to do spring break, Bobby had been deeply suspicious. And by deeply suspicious, he had thought Warren was talking to someone else, even though they were the only two people in the room at the time. Warren had also asked mid-sandwich-bite. 

Bobby swallowed. The hard lump of food hurt his throat. "What?" he croaked. "Why?" 

"Because it would be fun?" Warren replied, sitting down on the table next to him, stretching out like Bobby was about to paint his portrait or something. He must have come from a workout. He was wearing very short shorts. That was what Bobby remembered the most: how short those shorts had been and how exposed Warren's thighs had been and how his leg hair had sparkled. 

"I am a fun guy," Bobby admitted reluctantly. He prided himself on being the funnest X-Man. It was a thing. "Way more fun than Scotty, Jean and Hank, all of whom probably have other plans?"

Warren rolled his eyes. "This isn't a pity invite, doofus, but yeah, it would just be the two of us."

"I'm not twenty-one yet," Bobby blurted out.

"Duh, neither am I," Warren replied, fingers curled around the edge of the table. He leaned forward and grinned brightly in Bobby's face. "But the drinking age in Cancun is eighteen, so we're all good, buddy."

"I have sensitive skin," Bobby told him, remembering what the Professor had told him once. "I burn easily. You know... because of my _psychology_."

Warren tilted his head. "Physiology?"

"Yeah, that," Bobby said. He looked down. "And I can't ask my parents for that kind of money. I could probably afford the flight down, but I'd starve to death and that would be bad. Probably."

"Don't worry about that," Warren replied easily. He uncrossed those ridiculous long legs and stood up. "I have us covered. Get a flight, and I'll get everything else. Happy fucking Birthday, right?"

"My birthday was, like, ages ago."

"Whatever." Warren bent down, looping an arm around Bobby's shoulders. "So are you in or not?"

"I guess so," Bobby replied. 

Later, he had laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling. A weird little thrill went through him, thinking about going on spring break, about going with Warren. He was probably the best one to go with for his first spring break. Warren was worldly in a way Bobby just wasn't – and probably never would be, if he was being honest with himself – and he would make sure they didn't get arrested. 

Probably, anyway. He'd never seen Warren super drunk. But he was sure it would all be fine. 

He turned over, hiking the blankets up to his neck. Bobby had one last fleeting thought before he finally fell asleep: those shorts had been really short. He had practically been able to see his junk.

* * *

Warren somehow convinced the cab driver to take them to the resort he had booked. Bobby just looked on, baffled by the chain of events. Warren claimed the driver had offered, which Bobby had his doubts about, but at least they had a ride. Neither of them had been to Cancun before. 

Warren climbed into the passenger seat. Bobby sat in the back with the paper bag beside him. 

Warren continued to chat with the taxi driver, clearly recounting the tale of Bobby's shopping adventure. Warren ended up gifting the excess belts to him, including the one around Bobby's waist. Grumbling, he passed them to Warren through the gap in the seats. The belts had been nice ones. Way nicer than he'd ever get for himself. He'd enjoyed spending Warren's money. 

Or, to be more accurate, Warren's parents' money. Worthington Enterprises' money. Someone richer than him's money. Whatever. All that really mattered was that it wasn't _his_ money. 

"I thought you cancelled the rooms," Bobby said as they drove over, staring out the window. There were so many boobs in bikinis, attached to women in shorts like the ones Warren had worn. The guys were all bros. There were hundreds of shirtless bros for as far as the eye could see. Very few of them were in short shorts. "Will they even still have space for us to stay?"

"Of course," Warren said with the confidence of someone extremely wealthy. "Let me handle it."

They pulled up to a palatial resort, and Bobby got out of the car. The driver said something to Warren in rapid Spanish, which Warren nodded amiably at. The man handed Warren a business card, and Warren tucked it in his pocket, tapping a hand over it. He waved as the man peeled off.

"Hey, good news. He's coming back on Tuesday to show us around the city," Warren said.

"How the hell did you do that?" Bobby demanded. 

"Easily," Warren replied with an arrogant lift of his shoulder.

"You're really cocky for a guy with only the corporate credit card and an ego the size of Texas."

Warren shrugged. "It's working so far. It's all about faking it till you make it. Besides, I don't actually want to go home yet. Do you?" Bobby shook his head, and Warren smiled brightly. "There, see. Now, watch me work my magic. If I can't get us rooms, I'll buy you a new belt."

"Gee, just what I've always wanted," Bobby muttered as Warren strode off confidently. 

He looked around the lobby as Warren leaned over the reception counter, all easy laughter and bright smile. Bobby noticed how every gaze settled on his back. Even with all the belts, it didn't look quite right. If Warren had ever noticed the looks he got, he'd never complained about them. 

There was a drink station with water that had cucumber slices in a pile at the bottom. Odd. He poured himself a glass. It tasted exactly like water with cucumbers in it, he decided after a curious sip, but it wasn't bad, just weirdly refreshing. Maybe that was why his mom put them on her eyes.

After five minutes, Warren returned triumphant. "No belts for you," Warren said, grabbing him in a headlock and grinding his knuckles into Bobby's scalp. Bobby batted him away in irritation. "They only had one available, but evidently it's even better than the rooms I booked. What luck!" 

"Is this seriously how you go through life?" Bobby asked, trying to fix his hair. 

"You're calling the professor," Warren said, ignoring him. "I'm exhausted after all that work."

"Oh my god, why," Bobby groaned, jogging after him. Warren really was infuriating sometimes.

* * *

It was Warren who ended up calling the Professor. They both agreed, after a quick discussion, that Warren had the most chance of success. Bobby stayed out on the balcony as Warren sat on the bed, one leg over the opposite knee, phone to his ear. He shifted from time to time, stretching his back, one hand scratching absently at the makeshift harness. Bobby felt a little bad for him. 

But not too bad because Warren was still loaded and gorgeous, two things that Bobby was decidedly not. Bobby would put himself firmly into the average-bordering-cute category.

He was way out of his league here. 

The room was ridiculous. It would have been too big for the entire team plus the Professor... and maybe the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, including Magneto. There was a second toilet in the bathroom that was strictly responsible for cleaning butts. Bobby was deeply suspicious of it, but Warren swore it felt nice. There was a hot tub and a fridge full of alcohol and mangoes in a bowl.

There was only one bed, but it was a huge one, and Warren didn't seem too concerned about it. He assumed that either meant Warren wouldn't take anyone back to the room... or orgies. It was probably the former. Bobby hoped it was the former. He'd heard some crazy things about spring break. But whatever, there was one bed in a cavern of a room and all the mangoes he could eat.

And best of all, orgies or not, Warren was paying for absolutely everything. 

The glass door slid open, and Warren plopped down into one of the chairs. "We're okay to stay," Warren told him, putting his feet up on the balcony railing. "Same deal as before. He wants us back by next Sunday. He'll overnight our passports, one of my harnesses and some money." 

"Imagine if that package gets opened up for an inspection," Bobby replied with a dopey grin.

Warren barked a laugh. "That's his fault then. I hope that happens. It'd be hilarious." 

They cackled for a bit together, and then eventually Warren stood up and swatted him on the shoulder to follow. They headed back outside. They needed clothes and toiletries and bathing suits. Bobby was deeply afraid that Warren was going to hire a chauffeur or something equally embarrassing, but they ended up walking. Every time Bobby's shorts slipped, he missed his belt.

* * *

They got clothes first, brightly coloured linen shirts and shorts and underwear, all tossed into a pile that Warren paid for. Warren also threw in a few pairs of sunglasses and two straw hats in a style that Bobby never would have picked for himself for fear of looking like a complete tool.

"No," Warren said when he saw the bathing suits Bobby was examining. The fit looked fine, and he'd be covered from waist to knee, no chance of sunburn. Warren batted his hands away from them with an annoyed sigh. "Stop dressing like your father. What the hell is wrong with you?" 

"Not all of us love short shorts like you do," Bobby snapped. 

"What's the point of working out in the Danger Room every day if you're not going to show off your assets? You have a six-pack, dude, let people see it. You worked hard for that body, and if I'm going to spend the week dressed like a nun, one of us should flaunt it," Warren told him. 

Bobby eyed the suit Warren was holding up suspiciously. "I don't know," he said, ignoring Warren's nun comment. A fully clothed Warren was still a hot Warren. Mere clothes weren't enough to contain his freak-of-nature hotness. "If I wear that stupid thing, everyone's going to know how big my dick is. Hell, they're going to be able to tell if I'm circumcised or not."

"That's the point," Warren said sagely. "Trust me."

Bobby eventually talked Warren down to a bathing suit that they could both live with. Thighs exposed, but dick, balls and hips fully covered. He grabbed a few pairs in various colours. Warren ended up buying some scraps of fabric that looked more like panties than swimsuits. 

If Bobby had thought clothing was bad, toiletries were even worse. Warren was insufferable. 

"Dude, come on," Bobby said as Warren began to read the back of yet another box of condoms. 

"There's a whole bunch of brands I haven't even heard of," Warren replied, distracted. He glanced over at Bobby then abruptly started laughing. "Holy shit, dude, you are so red right now. Have you never bought condoms before? What the hell do you and Hank do when you go out?"

"_Not each other_," Bobby groaned, flushing harder. Warren raised an eyebrow, still smirking infuriatingly. "Fuck, I don't know. We go to the movies and get milkshakes and read comics."

"Okay, so you're giant nerds, great. I already knew that." Warren tossed two boxes into the basket hanging off his arm. His expression instantly sobered. "Are you still a virgin, Bobby?"

Bobby shrugged. His face was so hot that he was worried he might pass out. "Yeah, so?"

"Gotta pop that cherry sometime, Frosty," Warren said, laying a heavy arm across Bobby's shoulder. He tipped his head in the direction of the basket. "One of those boxes is for you."

"You're such an asshole," Bobby told him, shaking him off. "I don't need your help to get laid."

"Well, if you change your mind..." Warren said, walking to the end of the aisle to grab sunscreen. 

Bobby stared after him, some uncomfortable mix of anger and embarrassment churning in his belly. This was why he had been so reluctant to go. This was _exactly_ why he'd been so reluctant to go. Bobby wondered if it was too late to call the Professor and beg him to bring him home.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Warren said later, when they were back at the room and getting changed. There was still daylight left, and all Bobby wanted to do was bob in the pool for a bit and figure out how to order a fancy drink. He didn't even know any fancy drinks. He hoped they had a menu. "I _was_ an asshole."

"Yeah, you were," Bobby said, angrily rubbing sunscreen into his skin. 

"If you meet someone and you want to hook up, just tell me, and I'll fuck off for a few hours."

"I doubt I'm going to meet anyone," Bobby replied, flushing again. What was the point of having ice powers if he was still capable of blushing? Seriously, it was so fucking unfair. He hated his body sometimes. "That's not why I came here. I just want to sit by the pool and veg and drink my face off."

"Okay," Warren said peaceably, filling his palm with sunscreen. He started rubbing it all over Bobby's back, which would have been annoying except Bobby was very worried about sunburns. Bobby stood there as Warren slathered him up. "I won't pressure you, but I feel compelled to warn you, as a bro, people are going to want to do shots off you. Your stomach is asking for it."

"Ugh," Bobby said. "Remember when I was a giant dork and nobody noticed me?"

"What, like, five minutes ago when you leapt onto the bed and called yourself Superman?" 

"Not all of us can fly, dude. We take our opportunities where we can get them."

Warren rolled his eyes, but as he walked towards the door, he was chuckling. Pleased, Bobby grabbed his towel and his new hat and followed Warren out. He felt long overdue for a drink. 

They headed down to the pools and spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out and drinking. The thump of the music was doing crazy things to Bobby's chest, but the more he drank, the better he felt. There was, thankfully, a menu, and he basically started at the top by ordering a margarita.

They were able to claim one chair immediately. Warren wandered off then returned dragging another one behind him, his drink still determinedly held in his other hand. Bobby drank and people watched while Warren flipped lazily through a magazine he'd found from somewhere. 

Eventually, he went into the pool. Floating around, he became aware of the interest from a group of girls. They were cute, but he just wanted to relax and enjoy the sun. Life as an X-Man was hard. He needed the break. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt like a normal person.

Whatever normal was. Bobby didn't know anymore... or if he ever had. He closed his eyes and sighed. The water was really nice. Refreshing. All that was missing were some cucumber slices.

* * *

"Pace yourself, dude. You can't wreck yourself on the first day," Warren said at one point, an hour into the whole thing, sliding his sunglasses down his nose. His eyes, blue as the sky, fixed on the strawberry margarita in Bobby's hand, his third after the original one and the banana-flavoured one he had chased it up with. "I am not babysitting you all night because you can't hold your liquor."

"As if I would need you to," Bobby scoffed, taking another long sip. He was parched. 

"Fine. Just don't puke in the bed," Warren said faintly, putting his sunglasses back on. 

Bobby sunbathed for a bit, then went for another swim, then went for another drink. He got swept up into a dance lesson, had various pretty girls pressing up against him and ended up sitting with them for a bit. They were from New Hampshire. This was their second spring break.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught periodic glimpses of Warren by himself, magazine balanced on his knees, golden hair glinting in the sun. At one point, he put the magazine down and flipped onto his stomach, head pillowed on his arms. His back only looked a little lumpy. 

And shit, Bobby thought suddenly, Warren's bathing suit covered absolutely nothing. Bobby could see his rounded ass from there, two perfect globes peeking out from the hem of his brightly coloured shirt. Bobby had worked hard to get the wings tied down tight and high enough that they wouldn't show from the bottom. He was surprised Warren hadn't swooned in this heat yet. 

"What's wrong with him?" one the girls asked, noticing where his eyes went.

"Nothing," Bobby replied. 

"He's a little," she hunched over, rolling her shoulders up, "isn't he? I'm not trying to be mean."

"There's nothing wrong with him," he repeated, annoyed, aware of how defensive he sounded, but, like… she didn't even know Warren. How great a guy he was, how much he cared. And anyway, who cared what Warren's back looked like when his face and his ass looked so good? And those fucking thighs, and just… all of him. All of him was good. "He was born like that."

"He's just so pretty," she said. Her regretful tone didn't exactly make it sound like a compliment.

Bobby hung around for a little longer then made noise about having to piss, and it wasn't a lie – he did actually have to go, after all those drinks. By the time he returned to Warren, Warren was sitting at the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the water. Bobby plopped down beside him.

"Hey," Bobby said, leaning into his space a little.

"Hey," Warren replied. "Are you hungry? I think the buffet's about to open."

"I'm always hungry," Bobby assured him, bumping Warren with his shoulder.

But Warren didn't move, so neither did he. They sat there in amiable silence, watching people splash around in the pool. Eventually, Warren got up and Bobby followed. They went back to the room so Bobby could grab a shirt. After pulling shorts over their suits, they headed down to the buffet and ate to the point of discomfort. The rest of the evening was spent chilling in the bar. 

Warren asked, once, if Bobby wanted to do something more exciting, but he didn't.

* * *

It was late when they got back to the room. Despite having done nothing all day except help a random alien dude find his rebellious alien son, Bobby was exhausted. Trying not to stare, he watched as Warren took off the belts, sighing audibly with relief. His skin was red with welts.

"Shit, dude, that looks ugly," Bobby said with a low whistle.

Warren turned around and examined himself in the mirror, lifting his arm for the best view. He shrugged. "No worse than usual. I'm pretty used to being rubbed raw trying to hide my wings." 

"Still looks rough," Bobby replied, frowning, but Warren just shrugged again. Bobby went over to his pile of clothes then sifted through them. "Uh, I didn't buy any pyjamas. Did you?" He looked up just as Warren slid his bathing suit down his legs, and wow, he was completely naked. 

"No," Warren replied absently, shaking out a pair of briefs. "I sleep in my underwear anyway."

Bobby didn't. Bobby was the kind of guy who slept in a pair of flannel pyjama pants, year-round, and occasionally put on the matching top in colder months or if he was home visiting his folks. Sleeping in the same bed with Warren, wearing only his underwear, wasn't even in the same realm. 

"Dude," Warren said, noting his hesitation, briefs still dangling from his hand. Bobby really needed Warren to put those damn things on, like, thirty seconds ago. "Come on, we have the same junk. What's the problem? Afraid I'm going to notice your morning wood or something?"

"Yeah, a little bit actually," Bobby admitted in a weirdly squeaky voice, like puberty but worse.

"I'm not exactly modest…"

"No shit, Sherlock," Bobby choked out, trying not to look directly at Warren's dick. 

Warren finally pulled his underwear on, yanking it up his legs. The band snapped around his waist as it settled. "If you're that shy, I can try to remember to change in the bathroom. Or you can suck it the fuck up. Is this your virgin thing again? You've seen other people naked, right?"

"Not recently. It's not like there aren't four bathrooms for every student at the school right now."

"Shit, there are so many bathrooms in that place," Warren agreed with a bark of laughter. 

"I just…" Bobby started then stopped. He sighed. He had no idea why he was fighting so hard against the idea of seeing Warren naked all week. Basically nobody else on the planet would. "Okay, fine, you're right. Sorry. But if you make fun of my dick, I'm gonna make fun of yours."

"Deal," Warren said with a grin. "You're the one who should be worried. I still get wet dreams."

"TMI, dude, seriously," Bobby groaned as Warren cackled, shoving at him playfully on the way into the bathroom. Bobby watched him go then quickly shucked off his clothes and pulled on a fresh pair of undies. He was under the covers by the time Warren came back out and turned off the lights. The mattress dipped as Warren got onto it, just slightly, way less than he expected. 

"Good night, Bobby," Warren said. "Sorry in advance about the wings." 

"Uh, that's okay," Bobby assured him, not quite sure what he meant. "Good night." 

When Bobby woke up later in the night to pee, he found himself under a fluffy white wing, curled protectively around him. Warren snorted softly, face pressed into the pillow. Gingerly, Bobby slipped out of bed and into the bathroom. He pissed quickly then washed his hands. 

He stared at himself in the mirror for a long time, feeling like a fraud.

* * *

They slept late. True to his word, Warren didn't make fun of the erection tenting Bobby's briefs. He had to learn to sleep on his stomach, he thought morosely, staring at the ceiling. He assumed Warren was in a similar state, but he couldn't tell for sure. Stupid bodies always doing weird shit.

Bobby sat up slowly before padding to the bathroom. He peed then turned on the shower, letting it warm up before stepping under the stream. He was scrubbing shampoo into his hair when Warren ducked his head into the room. "Hey," he said amiably. "Do you mind if I take a piss?"

"Just don't crap while I'm in here," Bobby replied, eyes pinched shut as he rinsed off. 

"That would break so many rules in the bro code," Warren told him, lifting the seat. Bobby could barely see him through the glass door, the steam an impenetrable wall. Not that he wanted to see Warren pee or anything, but it was just a random thought. "We missed breakfast, but lunch?"

"Yeah, sounds good," Bobby agreed. 

Warren shook his dick dry – for some reason that action was perfectly clear, probably because it was so familiar – then moved towards the door. "Once you're done, I'll jump in and then we can head down. And if you want to, you know, take the edge off, don't let my presence stop you."

Bobby, who had been sporting a semi until then, felt his dick get fully hard. He was a once a day kind of guy – maybe more if he was being honest – but he'd pretty much resigned himself to nothing for the rest of the week. Now, with Warren's easy words ringing in his ears, it felt inevitable. Rather than looking like a tripod all day, Bobby grabbed his cock and started stroking. 

As the water poured down and his fist sped up, he wondered, absently, what Warren looked like when he jerked off. Bobby swallowed his groan. Probably the same as he usually did. Beautiful.

* * *

Bobby honestly thought he'd be bored doing the same shit all day, but he was having a blast.

Being consistently low-key drunk was amazing, truly a great experience, and he'd always loved being in a pool, even that one time his powers manifested while he was swimming in his parents' backyard. Getting stuck and having to wait hours to thaw hadn't diminished his love of pools.

Warren came and sat on the edge of the pool sometimes as Bobby floated beside him, arms crossed and propped on the intricate stonework lining the water, right next to Warren's thighs. 

As the afternoon progressed, Bobby got drunker and drunker. Not sloppy or pukey, not yet, but chatty and overly affectionate with strangers. He didn't notice when Warren left, but suddenly Bobby was alone with a nice girl named Marissa, who went to Northwestern for medicine. She was way too smart for him, but she hadn't actually noticed that yet. She was also very tall. 

"Yeah," she said, smiling when he pointed that out. She was standing very close to him in the water, and he kept looking at her chest without meaning to. He was basically surrounded by chests in every direction, except Warren's, since he was dressed like a nun. "My mom played basketball for Baylor." 

"Did she ever go to the Olympics?" Bobby asked, making conversation. 

"They don't let women play basketball at the Olympics," she replied with a sharp edge.

"That's shitty of them," he said with feeling, and she smiled at him again.

They ended up eating dinner together after Warren made some sort of bullshit excuse about not being hungry, which was such a lie, because Warren ate, like, a million calories a day, due to his weird bird metabolism or something. Bobby almost called him out, right there, in front of his new best friend Marissa when Warren leaned in and whispered, "she's into you, dude. Just go."

Bobby pulled back, but then Warren pressed Bobby's wallet into his hand. He must have gone back to the room, Bobby thought, a little dizzy. His back did look a little less lumpy than the belts Bobby had wrestled him into that morning. "I put a little present in there," Warren added.

"It better be money," Bobby told him, quite seriously. "I feel bad about not tipping."

Warren waved him off, turning back to the bartender, who immediately took Warren's drink order with a smile. The guy was gorgeous in the same way Warren was – effortlessly. Bobby wondered how much he made in tips every night. Probably a bunch, based on that mouth. 

Bobby jogged back to Marissa, who immediately laced her arm with his, and off they went.

* * *

Bobby sobered up a little after dinner, and he forced himself to have a good time, regardless of what happened. Marissa was into him, clearly, and she liked touching his stomach a lot, which Warren had warned him about. He tried to imagine going back to her room and doing... something. Like... was he just supposed to stick it in or would she expect to be kissed a lot first?

He was a bad kisser. A really bad kisser. He couldn't force that on her. 

Warren, the asshole, had put a condom in his wallet, which made Bobby irrationally angry. It wasn't like Hank wouldn't have done the same thing, except it would have been prefaced with a lecture on the birds and the bees, probably both literally and figuratively. Hank just couldn't help himself when it came to shit like that. Bobby knew so much random science crap. It was probably why Marissa hadn't noticed he was doomed for a life as a boring-ass accountant yet. 

Hank and Marissa probably would have hit it off, though. Bobby wished he was here instead.

Every time he looked over to the bar, Warren was still sitting there drinking and laughing and holding court, but whether it was his choice or everyone else's, there was a noticeable distance between him and the people around him. He clearly didn't want to be touched. There were vibes.

"Hey," Marissa said, a warm hand on his waist, "do you wanna come up to my room?"

"Uh," Bobby said, stalling for time, but it turned out that was all he needed to do. Her hand dropped away, and while she was still very kind to him as they enjoyed a few more drinks – Bobby had a bit more than few, to be perfectly honest – when he mumbled something about leaving, she let him go without much protest. Weirdly relieved, he went back to the room, alone. 

He lay on the bed as the walls spun around him. Putting a hand across his eyes didn't help. 

Eventually, Bobby crawled to the bathroom and puked. He felt marginally better after that.

* * *

Bobby had vague memories of Warren peeling him off the floor and dragging him into bed, stripping him down to his skin and then putting a pair of briefs back on. His hands were big and warm and nice, so Bobby didn't mind so much that Warren had probably seen his dick up close. 

When Bobby woke up for real, it was mid-afternoon, and Warren was nowhere to be seen. 

Bobby stumbled into the bathroom and sat down on the toilet. His stomach suddenly lurched, and he dumped out the waste bin onto the floor, just in case. He stayed there for a long time, half-asleep. Warren had laid out a row of painkillers. Bobby squinted at the back of one of the bottles, making sure he didn't kill himself with the wrong dosage or – even better – the right one.

He staggered back to bed and lay there on his stomach, moaning. He felt so bad. 

Eventually, he rolled onto his back and turned on the television. It was all in Spanish, but he found some game show that had a lot of audience laughter, which was entertaining in its own right. He knew he needed to eat something, but just the sheer idea was almost too much for him.

Once he felt less like death, he looked around the room until he found the room service menu. The prices were obscene, but as far as he figured, Warren owed him. That fucking condom had derailed his entire night. He had been having a good time until Warren had made it super weird. 

Bobby probably should have just slept with her, to get it over with. His stomach turned again.

When the food arrived, he took it outside onto the balcony. It only took his eyes a few seconds to locate Warren, sitting on a stool at the poolside bar, hip-deep in water. That same bartender was there. If they had a face-off right then, over who was the more attractive person, Bobby had no idea who would win. Probably all of humanity, he decided, picking at the pork on his plate. 

That guy had definitely slept with a bunch of women. Bobby knew Warren had. 

Bobby drank more water, forced himself to eat everything on his plate, then took another painkiller. He thought about going outside, actually leaving the room, but the thump of the music was making him vaguely nauseous. And somebody would probably try to sleep with him and his abdominal muscles again. Bobby looked down at them accusingly. His body was such a jerk.

* * *

It was late when Warren came back. Having finally found a movie in English, Bobby was still up and not tired at all. Warily, he watched as Warren toed off his sandals then started unbuttoning his shirt. When he got the harness off, Bobby noticed how much better his skin looked today.

Warren turned on him gleefully. 

"Don't even say it," Bobby warned as Warren flopped onto the bed. 

"I found you curled up in the fetal position on the bathroom floor," Warren replied, eyes dancing with merriment. "You were shivering, dude. You were so pathetic. I wish I had a camera. I could've taken a picture and given it to the Professor to use in health class as a cautionary tale." 

"Do not tell the Professor about this," Bobby said. "Don't tell _anybody_ about this."

Warren scoffed. "Bobby, come on. What happens on spring break, stays on spring break."

"I thought that was Vegas," Bobby muttered, crossing his arms, knees drawn up. 

"Same idea," Warren told him, rolling onto his stomach and crossing his legs at the ankles. He reached back once to adjust his swimsuit so it wasn't riding up quite so high on his ass cheeks, but he mercifully said nothing else until the credits to the movie started rolling an hour later. 

Bobby, who had been waiting with dread for that entire hour, was less prepared than he wanted. 

"So?" Warren finally asked, shifting to sit cross-legged on the bed. His wings hung off the bed behind him, low enough to touch the floor. "Did you do the deed with the lovely Marissa?"

"Dude, I could barely stand by the end of the night," Bobby said with a dismissive scoff. 

"But before that...?" Warren prompted. 

"No," Bobby said, pained. He crouched a little lower, pulled his legs in a little more. Warren looked at him with pity. "I agree she was super nice. She was, you know, objectively very hot and way smarter than I can ever hope to be. And she did invite me back to her room, but I just..."

"You just what?"

"I don't know," Bobby admitted, burying his head in his knees. "It didn't feel right, and I didn't know what to do anyway. I'm a really bad kisser, Warren. Like, you have no idea. And then I'd probably fuck it up, with the condom, and she's in med school, man. She doesn't need my kid."

Warren whistled. "Wow, you just escalated that really quickly. Just don't come in her then."

"Holy shit!" Bobby shouted, lifting his head to glare at him. "Have you ever thought about anyone else's feelings before? That's not the point. I didn't know what to fucking do, and then I didn't even know if I wanted to do it, and she deserved way better than someone like me."

"You are a mess," Warren said, bewildered. "You are way overthinking this. It's just sex." 

"Fuck you and your stupid condom in my wallet."

"Technically it was your condom," Warren muttered, and Bobby shoved him off the bed.

* * *

Warren didn't talk to him for thirty blissful minutes. Bobby lay there, glowering at the ceiling, while Warren sat on the floor, curled up like Bobby had been, chin resting on his forearm. He was definitely a little drunk, Bobby realized, glancing at him, even though that didn't excuse him. 

"What was your first time like?" Bobby asked before he thought too much about it.

"Embarrassing," Warren admitted, staring out the window. "I came, like, before I was even anywhere near her and then when I finally got there, I put zero effort into making it good for her. I just had no idea what I was doing and curiosity killed the cat in, like, multiple ways that night."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just tell that terrible dad joke. That's supposed to be my thing."

Warren finally turned around, meeting his gaze. "I don't actually mean to be a giant dick," Warren said, crossing his arms on the bed. "I spent so many years trying to make people hate me so they didn't notice these fucking things on my back that I don't always remember how to stop."

Bobby sighed. "For the record, I've never actually hated you. Not, like, for real."

"That's good. I appreciate that. Thank you," Warren said, eyes fixed on Bobby's face.

"Did you have wings at the time or..."

"I had the wings," Warren replied. "I have slept with way fewer people than you think I have, and I was probably older than you think I was. I don't even know when you think I'd find the time. So, yeah, I've been with a couple of people, but I have kept my clothes on for almost all of them." 

Bobby almost blurted out _what a waste_ before he caught himself. 

"It's just not always worth the hassle, knowing someone might find out I'm a mutant and blab."

"Yeah," Bobby agreed. Warren had a lot to lose if his status as a mutant became known. At least with Bobby nobody knew who he was, but with Warren... Bobby had once walked by a shelf in a convenience store to see Warren's face on the cover of one of those teen magazines. Bobby had just been in there to buy a Snickers and a bottle of Coca-Cola. It'd been a totally surreal experience. 

"You should take some of the condoms and practice," Warren said suddenly. "I bought a ton."

Bobby groaned. "I'm so bad at following directions, man. You know that. Remember the belts?"

As Warren considered that, silence lapsed between them. Another movie had started, but he'd missed the entire introduction and he couldn't follow the plot at all. It looked terrible anyway. While Bobby was frowning at the bad acting, Warren got up and walked into the bathroom. 

When he came back, he had a couple of condoms in his hand. 

"You are like a dog with a bone, dude, oh my god. You are obsessed with condoms."

"I'm not the one who didn't pay attention in health class."

"Like anyone could learn in that sort of environment," Bobby protested, flashing back to the Professor's annual attempt to make sure none of his students got a venereal disease or knocked anyone up. This year's version had consisted of Warren staring longingly out the window, Scott and Jean pretending they weren't already doing it, Hank getting all biological and gross about the intricacies of the human body, and Bobby being too embarrassed to ask if having sex dreams about a teammate meant anything _definitively_. It had just been a shit show all around.

"I could show you," Warren said, glancing over at Bobby cautiously. "Like... _show_ you."

Bobby felt his face get hot. "That's not necessary," he insisted, wishing he had a pillow or something. Did Warren mean Bobby's dick or his own? Bobby honestly couldn't decide which one would be worse. "Are you drunk? Why would you... you seriously don't have to, dude."

"Buzzed at best," he said with a scoff. Bobby flushed even hotter as Warren's voice softened and he added, "we have the same parts, right? And I'm not shy. We've been through this already."

Warren looked at him, waiting for his answer, and Bobby felt himself nod. He didn't know why. It was like he wasn't in control of his own body. He wished the TV was off... or maybe that it was louder, so it could drown out the noise of his breathing, which sounded impossibly loud. 

Warren lifted his hips and pulled his swimsuit off. Bobby didn't know where to look, so he stared at Warren's knee as Warren stroked himself a few times. From the corner of his eye, he'd noticed that Warren was already mostly hard, just from them talking about it. Bobby shifted slightly.

"Okay, so," Warren started, picking up one of the condoms and tearing it open. "Rip from the side. Make sure you don't tear it. Then you just have to figure out which direction it goes on. If it doesn't roll down, you fucked up and you should get a new one. It only takes one swimmer."

"Got it," Bobby said, feeling like he had permission to look at Warren's cock now. 

"Pinch the top," Warren explained, putting his forefinger and his thumb together at the latex tip, "then just roll it all the way down to the base of your cock." Warren skimmed his hand down his dick, the condom easily following the motion. "And then you're protected. Okay? It's simple." 

Bobby nodded. He had no moisture in his mouth. "Yeah, I see that." 

Warren leaned back a little and looked down at his lap, where his cock stood between his legs, a trail of golden hair climbing up from the base of his dick to his belly. He had extremely tidy pubes. He had to at least trim, Bobby thought. "It's not a bad size, huh?" Warren asked softly. 

"Yeah, it's nice," Bobby agreed absently, then quickly added, "I mean, as far as dicks go." 

Warren nodded, and they both sat there for a bit, admiring Warren's cock. It should have felt a lot more uncomfortable. Eventually, Warren sat back up. "To remove it, carefully pull it off without spilling any jizz. Tie the end off, because it's just cleaner that way, then toss it in a garbage can. Do not flush it. Okay?" Warren stared at him, waiting for his response. Bobby nodded woodenly.

"Thanks for the lesson," Bobby croaked, and Warren gave him a small smile before getting up and pulling on his briefs. He went into the bathroom without saying anything, and he was in there for a long time, long enough that Bobby started getting sleepy. Bobby wanted to tell Warren that it was okay – that he had _really_ appreciated it – but he didn't want to make it weird.

Weirder. 

Bobby turned the TV off. Warren still hadn't come back to the bed by the time Bobby fell asleep.

* * *

Warren woke him up at the crack of dawn like nothing had happened. 

"We're touring the city today, remember?" Warren said, kneeling over him and shaking him into consciousness. Bobby batted at him uselessly. Hadn't he learned last night that once Warren got an idea in his head he couldn't be stopped? Bobby's dick was as stiff as a flagpole, and he wasn't sure how he was going to get from point A to point B without Warren saying something.

Mercifully, Warren eventually decided Bobby was suitably awake and went to shower. Bobby lay on his back, hating his life, hating his dick. He weighed the pros and cons of jerking off surreptitiously under the sheets. He just didn't know what to do with his come, after. Logistical nightmare. Would Warren notice a sloppy hand? Probably. The dude had eyes like an eagle. 

Bobby decided just to wait. He took a few deep breaths, and that seemed to help. 

While Warren was shaving at the sink, Bobby quickly got up and grabbed his clothes for the day. He was grateful that he finally got to spend the day in shorts that came down to his knees. He had seen way too many fully revealed thighs recently. He definitely needed a break from them.

And other parts. Other things. Warren had shown him his rock hard dick. _Fuck_. 

Bobby swore at himself, low, under his breath. He had been so good at not thinking about that, and now, just fifteen minutes after opening his eyes to find Warren leaning over him with a grin, he was already reliving it again. So far his spring break was going just about he had expected it would go: filling his head with secrets that he had no chance in hell of hiding from the Professor. 

This had been a bad idea from the start. Bobby should have taken those short shorts as an omen. 

"I'm all done in there," Warren said coming out of the bathroom, scrubbing his hair dry with a towel. He had pants on, but no shirt or harness yet. He smelled like fresh fruit and sunshine. 

"I'll be quick," Bobby told him, keeping his clothes balled up in front of his crotch. 

"Good thing you don't have to shave that baby face of yours," Warren remarked idly. 

"Fuck you, I shave. Sometimes," Bobby muttered as Warren chuckled, still scrubbing. Bobby sighed, shutting the door behind him. The mirror was covered in steam, so he palmed his face blindly, deciding it _was_ prickly enough to shave, fuck Warren. Not literally, he amended quickly, but fuck him and his infuriating laugh and his nice dick and just... every perfect thing about him.

Bobby turned on the shower and stepped into the stream before it had fully warmed up. He touched his dick, still unrelentingly hard, and jerked off thinking about nothing in particular.

* * *

After a quick breakfast, they wandered outside to find the cab driver already waiting for them. Sauntering up to the car, Warren greeted him with a friendly smile then sat upfront with the guy, whose name was Antonio. He was, Bobby noticed immediately, wearing one of the belts. 

While Warren chatted with Antonio, Bobby slouched in the back and stared out the window.

They went to a museum, which was more interesting than he had expected, and then they went on a walk through a market, where Bobby picked up some souvenirs. For lunch, Antonio brought them to a restaurant neither of them ever would have found on their own, hidden in the middle of a residential area, under a lush canopy of trees. Antonio ordered for them then left them alone. 

"Having fun?" Warren asked as they waited for their drinks. Despite the heat and the inevitable sweat that followed, Warren practically glowed while Bobby felt like a damp sock. Bobby couldn't even imagine how hot Warren must have been with fluffy wings bound to his back. 

"Yeah, it's good so far," Bobby replied. "You and Antonio seem to get along well."

Warren shrugged. "He's a nice guy. He has five daughters. His wife owns this place."

"I better not talk shit about it then," Bobby murmured, sitting back as the server came with the drinks. He didn't know what type they were, but there was fruit involved, and he liked fruit. "You are really in your element here. I'm surprised Antonio's not trying to marry you into the family."

"I'm not the marrying kind," Warren said easily, taking a sip of the drink then plucking out a slice of orange and putting it into his mouth. He pulled the rind off and laid it carefully on the table. Warren shrugged. "Besides, I'm not doing anything different from what I normally do." 

That was true… to a point. Warren was being Warren in a very Warren way. 

But it was also not true. 

There was no denying that Warren had swagger. Tall but not too tall, respectably tall, taller than Bobby. He looked a person in the eyes when engaging in conversation. He shook hands like he knew he was about to seal the deal. He just naturally shone bright like the sun, drawing people into his orbit. But it felt different here, like Bobby was being shown something new and secret. 

What, he wasn't quite sure yet, but this Warren sitting in front of him wasn't one he'd met before.

It unsettled him for reasons he didn't quite understand.

* * *

Antonio got them back to the resort by dinner time. Despite not having reservations, Warren talked them into one of the à la carte restaurants. Bobby's mouth had finally recovered from the spice of their delicious lunch, and he drank too much red wine from his perpetually full glass.

By the time they were done, the sun had set, and the resort had switched into party mode. Bobby, pleasantly tipsy, danced for a bit with Warren beside him, who didn't look at all wilted. Warren's hair, damp with sweat, curled around his face like a golden halo. One extremely drunk woman tried to dance with him, hands reaching for his shoulders, and Warren gently guided her away. 

"I'm gonna grab a drink," Warren shouted, over the music. "Want anything?"

"No, I'm good," Bobby shouted back, bopping with the music. He'd had a lot of wine at dinner.

He did end up drinking more. Warren's premonition came true, and Bobby got dragged into body shots. It took all his concentration to keep, well, _cool_. As in… not ice up and accidentally chill the drinks, freaking everyone the fuck out. There would be no freaking out tonight if he had any say in it. He was sure the Professor hadn't had this in mind when he'd spent the last few years trying to teach Bobby how to control his powers, but whatever. It was coming in handy now. 

At one point, he noticed Warren sitting at the bar still talking to his favourite bartender, even though it looked like he was shutting it down for the night. Warren looked relaxed, happy, but Bobby wanted to go over to him just to make sure. It was stressful, being them. The Professor was convinced they were the next evolutionary step, but sometimes Bobby felt like it was just the five of them, on the cusp of being released into the real world. Graduation day was soon.

Too soon, Bobby thought, tipping his head back as another stranger licked across his chest. 

They deserved to have a great spring break before boring reality set in and Bobby became an accountant. So far, despite a few hiccups and that weirdness last night, Bobby thought they had. Better than he had expected, for sure, and it was nice to spend some one-on-one time with Warren before they all scattered to the wind and tried their hands at being young adults. 

When he looked over at the bar again, it had been closed up. Warren was nowhere to be seen.

Eventually, Bobby pulled himself away from the festivities. His head was spinning, but he felt okay so far. Not bad enough to pass out on the bathroom floor again at any rate. Taking off his flip flops, he strolled down by the water, wading ankle-deep. Taking a few surreptitious looks around to make sure he was alone, he iced up a little, enjoying the added challenge of saltwater. 

Pleased with himself, he made his way back to the room. Warren wasn't there either. 

Bobby flopped down on the bed, feeling like he was floating. Absently – the memories of strangers' mouths on his body still warm on his skin – Bobby slid his hand into his shorts and stroked himself. A thrill of pleasure thrummed through his entire body. What if Warren walked in, right at that moment, and saw Bobby jerking himself off? Would he… would he just watch? 

Or would he…? Bobby couldn't even finish that thought before he was coming in his briefs.

Bobby took his hand out of his pants, feeling guilty, but as far as fantasies went, that one had been pretty tame. He had a lot of material to work with. If a telepath ever asked about the ethical considerations of getting off thinking about a friend, Bobby would simply point out he'd once seen Warren's rock hard cock during an ill-advised condom lesson, so it could have been worse. 

Bobby took a shower then got into bed. Warren still wasn't back. He jerked off again because he could, eyes pinched closed, trying not to think of anything at all. He caught his come in his hand. Briefly, he considered, like, licking his palm clean, but he got up and washed his hand instead. 

It took him a long time to fall asleep.

* * *

A little after four, Bobby woke up with a jolt. He turned his head slightly, squinting at the clock. 

"Sorry, dude," Warren whispered, creeping across the room in the dark. Bobby had left the balcony door unlocked for him, but it looked like he hadn't used it. Bobby couldn't see the outline of his wings at all. "I'm just gonna take a quick shower. Will that keep you awake?"

Bobby rubbed his face on his pillow. "Magneto couldn't keep me awake right now," he said. He was still drunk, and he was just glad Warren was back. Warren hummed his acknowledgement then went into the bathroom. The door closed softly behind him, light spilling from the bottom. 

It was only then, with the faint click of the lock, that Bobby came to full consciousness. 

It was none of his business, he told himself firmly, a weird sick feeling settling in his belly. His blood roared through his ears, hot and deafening. Whatever Warren had done, _whoever_ Warren had done, it was none of Bobby's business. And if he had... with that bartender… then so what?

The shower switched off, and a few minutes later Warren came back into the room. As Bobby feigned sleep, he climbed into bed, one wing immediately brushing Bobby's side. Eventually, Warren's breath evened out and Bobby finally looked over at him, his mouth drawn tight. 

He didn't look any different, Bobby thought, heart beating wildly. He wasn't any different. 

But everything felt changed somehow. Bobby couldn't explain why. It just did.

* * *

The next morning, Bobby woke up before Warren. He'd finally fallen asleep, though he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment. He still felt ragged, raw, like something had been scraped out of his chest. He pulled on a swimsuit and a t-shirt and slicked up his armpits with a deodorant that Warren had picked out for him. He sniffed at it. Unsurprisingly, it made him smell like Warren. 

Ignoring his twisting stomach, he checked on Warren again, even tried to wake him up, but he was completely out of it. Bobby grabbed one of the keys, his towel and a bottle of sunscreen, and headed down to grab some breakfast. Once he'd filled up on bacon and eggs, he went to the pool.

He had a light lunch, again by himself, then returned to the poolside. He swam for a bit.

Mid-afternoon, Warren finally appeared. He collapsed in the chair Bobby had claimed for him.

"Late night, buddy?" Bobby asked, sounding lighter than he felt. Wasn't this what dudes did? Rag on their buddies for staying out too late after getting laid? But it was Bobby who was having a hard time meeting Warren's eyes. Warren didn't look like a guy who had sex with other men, and Bobby hated how much he sounded like his dad right then, but there it was all the same. 

"Yeah, I feel like garbage," Warren said easily, head tipped back. "Have you eaten yet?"

"It's, like, three o'clock in the afternoon." 

"I need a chaser for this hangover," Warren replied. "Get me a drink? Something fruity…"

"That's a terrible idea," Bobby said firmly, sounding like his mom now. 

Warren slid his sunglasses down his nose and gave Bobby a withering look. "What the hell do you know about hangover cures, Mr. Drink Three Beers and Pass Out? Besides," Warren added loftily, relaxing again, "you owe me, dude. Remember how I paid for absolutely everything?"

"We still have to get back," Bobby muttered, already fishing a few pesos out of his wallet. 

Warren's bartender buddy was working, but Bobby ordered from the other guy, giving him the tip directly. Bobby managed to get the drinks back without spilling them, even after some of the people from last night tried to entice him into more body shots. Bobby's stomach churned at the idea.

"Here, your majesty," Bobby said, giving Warren a drink with a large slice of pineapple in it. 

"Thanks, bro," Warren replied and took it from Bobby's iced up hand.

* * *

Wednesday was a complete write-off. Between Warren's lingering hangover and Bobby's weird mood, they spent the entire day by the pool until the resort closed it down and kicked them out. They had dinner at the buffet then went to see a show where women gyrated up on the stage. 

"I think I might actually be too hungover to appreciate this," Warren remarked, still wearing his sunglasses. Bobby was loathed to agree with him, but he wasn't feeling it either. "You wanna get out of here?" he asked, already standing up and murmuring apologies to people as he moved. 

"Yeah, okay, sure," Bobby said, following him outside. 

They walked through the crowd of partiers outside, past the bar that Bobby had begun to think of as Warren's and down to the sea. Warren immediately kicked off his shoes and walked into the water. He stood there, knee-deep, and stared up at the sky. Bobby stepped up beside him. 

"You okay?" Bobby asked cautiously. 

"I've been better," Warren admitted, scratching a hand through his hair. He looked much steadier than Bobby, who was convinced a giant wave was about to come in and dump him on his ass. "Sorry for being zero fun today. We really need to coordinate our massive hangovers better."

Bobby snorted. "Yeah, well, I'm still learning. You were supposed to know better."

"Yeah," Warren agreed softly. "Listen, I might just go for a fly then head back and get some sleep. You should stay out a bit longer, hang out with those new friends of yours. Don't let me ruin your spring break." Warren turned to look at him. "And hey, maybe tonight's the big night." 

"You are the worst," Bobby told him sternly. "Do you think about anything other than sex?"

Warren shrugged. "What else is there to think of? The future looming before us, terrifying and unknown?" He glanced over at Bobby again, expression sober before breaking into a grin. "We're young and gorgeous. Why not live it up a little? Is there ever going to be a better time?"

"Seriously the worst," Bobby repeated, annoyed. "And I'm not gorgeous. Not even close."

"You're cute," Warren told him, gaze sweeping over him. "Plenty of people go for that."

"I'm not getting laid tonight," Bobby said, huffing with exasperation. "I'm going to sleep."

"Suit yourself," Warren said with another easy shrug, taking a glance around. He started to unbutton his shirt. "Hey, spot me until I get up in the air? Unless you wanna come, too?" 

"One guy flapping around like an idiot might go unnoticed, but two of us probably wouldn't."

"You just called yourself an idiot," Warren pointed out, removing his harness and shaking out his wings. Without being asked, Bobby held out his hands and took all of Warren's crap. "Thanks, dude. Leave the balcony door open for me, will you? I'll try not to wake you when I get back."

"Don't get captured by any sentinels," Bobby replied, watching as Warren flew off. Once he was out of sight, Bobby turned around and headed back to the room. He unlocked the sliding glass door and stood out on the balcony for a bit, watching all the people partying down below. 

Eventually, he went back inside and fell asleep. It took a while.

* * *

The next morning, they both had their shit together enough to grab breakfast. After, they headed to the pool. It was early enough that they were able to grab two chairs together without having to circle like hawks first. Bobby expected Warren to wander off eventually, but he stuck close. They drank and sunbathed, and Bobby swam a bunch after Warren slathered him in sunscreen.

"You're really tense," Warren remarked, pressing his thumbs into Bobby's shoulder blades.

"All this outer humour hides an incredibly stressed interior," Bobby told him, only half-joking. 

"You should get a massage," Warren said. "Stress will kill you before blue balls ever does."

Bobby groaned. "You are unbelievable. Can you turn every conversation back to sex?"

Warren chuckled, his laugh warm and honey-sweet. "It's a talent. What can I say?" 

Bobby let Warren finished rubbing him down with lotion then jogged off to the pool. Eventually, Warren came to sit by him as he splashed around, two fresh drinks in his hand. Bobby accepted the peace offering and sat back, pressing his back to the tiled shell of the pool, legs stretched out. 

It was nice, this whole thing, spring break. He'd had his reservations, but these sorts of moments were really great. He tried to imagine being here with Hank or Scott and Jean, but he couldn't fully form the image in his head. Warren really was the best person to do something like this with. He could be an infuriating jackass, but Bobby wasn't exactly totally innocent there either. 

"What are you smiling about?" Warren asked suddenly, bumping Bobby with his knee. "See someone you like?"

"I was having a moment, you asshole," Bobby replied, batting him away. "Way to ruin it."

"I'm gonna get you laid if it's the last thing I do," Warren told him, grinning like a fiend, and Bobby had to look away quickly, hoping his face didn't look as hot as it felt. Warren continued, which hopefully meant he hadn't noticed, "this spring break is going to change your life, dude."

Unfortunately, that was – and always had been – exactly what Bobby was worried about.

* * *

By the time dinner rolled around, Bobby had accepted he was going to kill Warren. How, he didn't know yet, but he was going to do it. Bobby was convinced more than ever that Warren had slept with the bartender and things had gone sour, and, without that to distract him, was bored. 

Bobby did the only thing he could. He ditched Warren at the first opportunity. 

He went for a walk, by himself, and tried to sort his head out. The annoying part, the absolutely infuriating part, was that Warren was right. Bobby did want to have sex. Bobby wanted to have a ton of sex. Bobby probably thought about sex more than Warren thought a person even could. 

But it didn't feel easy, or fun, or anything good. It felt like an obligation. Like it was something he needed to do prove himself but whatever it proved wasn't going to be what anybody wanted. Not him, not his parents, not anyone else in the world. He couldn't even acknowledge his own desire. He'd buried it so deep inside himself that it had gotten covered by all the other shit. 

It was hard enough being a mutant. That one thing was so fucking hard. Anything else…

Bobby sat down before he passed out or puked or something else equally embarrassing. 

He thought about calling Hank. Collect, of course, but maybe Hank could talk him down. If nothing else, Hank loved to talk about shit, and Bobby was in the perfect mood to listen to Hank drone on about geophysics or how to bake the perfect banana bread or the biology of aardvarks.

Bobby could think of nothing he cared about less than aardvarks, so that said something.

There was a twenty-four-hour snack bar, hidden away at the edge of the property, so Bobby headed over there and ate some ice cream and contemplated his entire existence. Very soon, he was going to leave the school and go to a _real_ college – as his father reminded him every time Bobby mentioned how much he enjoyed being at Xavier's – and learn how to be an accountant. 

And then, after that, he'd marry the sweetheart he'd met there, get her pregnant a bunch of times and carry on the Drake line. He'd have a mortgage, and an Oldsmobile, and a perfect little life. 

And he was going to hate every second of it. 

That was what Warren didn't understand, what Warren would never understand. Bobby couldn't afford to do anything else. He didn't have anything to fall back on. If his parents cut him off, what was he supposed to do? The mutant thing had been hard enough for them to accept.

But anything more? Anything _worse_? 

Bobby stopped before the thought fully formed again. He sat there for a long time, just breathing.

Eventually, he got up and headed back to the room. Hopefully, the fridge was still full of alcohol.

* * *

By the time Warren showed up, Bobby was buzzed, sitting out on the balcony, feeling sorry for himself. He just needed one good night of wallowing and then he'd be back to normal. As long as Warren didn't show Bobby his dick again or fuck – or get fucked by, _shit_ – the bartender again, Bobby thought he'd be fine. Not perfect but back to his usual state of repression and longing. 

"Okay, so I think I was an asshole again," Warren said, coming out onto the balcony.

"You were," Bobby confirmed, tipping his head back to stare at the soul-crushing abyss of space.

"It isn't my place to decide when or if you're ready."

"No, it isn't," Bobby agreed. Space, he decided, was fucked up and scary, and he didn't like it.

"So I am sorry. Honestly. But if there's something in particular that you're worried about, like, you could talk to me. I know I'm not Hank, but maybe that's better. Distance, right? And maybe we won't even be friends after this is all over," Warren added uncertainly, like it was even possible. 

Bobby tore his eyes away from the horrors of the universe. "You don't get to not be friends with me just because we've graduated," Bobby said, glaring at him. "I worked my ass off to catch up in school, to make sure we all left together. That was so fucking hard. So if I'm going to learn shit years before I was supposed to, you're going to suck it up and continue to be my friend."

"I just meant..." Warren exhaled sharply, scratching at his chest. He still had his shirt and harness on. "Everyone else splits neatly into pairs, and I'm just kind of here, doing my own thing. I think you have less to lose with me, and I..." Warren trailed off again. "You can ask me anything." 

Bobby brought a thumb to his mouth and chewed at the nail. He thought about it. If he wanted to ask anything. If he was brave enough to. He thought about it for a long time. "Did you sleep with that bartender?" Bobby asked finally, before he chickened out. He couldn't look at Warren's face. 

Warren didn't immediately say anything, and Bobby couldn't blame him. Not really. 

"_Yeah_," Warren said softly, and Bobby turned to him, catching the rueful smile twisting his lips before it slid into an obstinate line. He met Bobby's eyes, defiant, and Bobby nodded. It wasn't like he hadn't known that already. Warren exhaled again. "Do you want to know anything else?"

Bobby shrugged. He did... but he also didn't. Whatever Warren told him, Bobby wasn't sure he could keep it a secret. He'd want to, but... the Professor was a very powerful telepath. Sometimes things just leaked out. "It's not really my business, is it?" he said. "It's fine that you're..."

"Anything, Bobby," Warren said, cutting him off. 

Bobby pressed his lips together. "Was that the first time you, you know, with another guy?"

"No," Warren said easily. 

"How did... how did it happen?" Bobby asked, flushing immediately. He quickly clarified, in case Warren felt obligated to give details. "Like, how did you even know, that he was into that?" 

Warren shrugged. "I flirted with him. He flirted back. After two days, I took a chance, and he responded. He lives just outside of town, so I went back to his place. We fucked then hung out, and he made us drinks. After that, we were both too drunk to do anything else, and I took a cab back. I was never going to see him again, so I had nothing to lose. He made me feel... _desired_."

A curl of warmth formed in Bobby's stomach. That actually sounded really nice. 

"Did you take your clothes off?" Bobby asked, chancing another glance in Warren's direction.

Warren shook his head. "No, I didn't let him anywhere near my back."

"Okay, thanks," Bobby said abruptly, looking away again. "That's all I wanted to know."

* * *

Bobby thought about what Warren had told him. He appreciated the honesty. Warren wasn't always the easiest guy to get a read on. If Bobby joked too much to hide his own feelings, Warren told other people what they wanted to hear too much. It was hard to see the real Warren.

Under that strikingly beautiful surface was a guy who was wicked smart, who did the right thing even when it was hard and who was unfailingly generous when it came to someone needing help. That he had that face was just a perk. A deeply unfair perk, but when had life ever been fair?

"I think about sex all the time," Bobby said suddenly, ignoring how fast Warren lifted his head, interested. "To the point where I feel like I need to apologize to the Professor sometimes..." 

"Oh, shit, don't do that," Warren replied, laughing, a look of horror on his face. 

"And then it doesn't help, watching Scott and Jean all lovey-dovey with each other. And dude, science people are nuts," Bobby said. "These conferences Hank goes to are basically orgies, from the way he talks about them. It makes me wish I was smarter. And you, well, you exist, I guess."

"Thanks," Warren said, making a face. 

"Maybe I should get back with Zelda," Bobby continued.

"Do you _want_ to get back with Zelda?"

Bobby shrugged. "I do like her," he said, realizing how bad that sounded. "She seems to still like me. She's nice, and she makes a really good root beer float. She reads comics, too, so we have things to talk about. She takes it personally every time the Yankees win a game. That's funny."

"She sounds like a great friend," Warren agreed. "What do _you_ want, Bobby?"

Bobby shrugged again. "Nothing in particular."

"Bullshit," Warren said, sharp and harsh. "What do you want, Bobby?"

"Nothing," he repeated and, as Warren's frown deepened, added, "I mean, I want what anyone wants."

"Which is..." Warren prompted, leaning forward, eyes on Bobby's face, waiting. Bobby swallowed the lump in his throat, aware of the staccato beat of his own heart. There were a lot of things he wanted, but he didn't know how to ask for any of them. "What do you want, Bobby?"

"I want a blowjob," Bobby blurted out.

* * *

Once it was out there, Bobby wanted desperately to take it back. What if he'd been wrong? 

Warren looked at him for a moment longer and then, without a word, took Bobby's hand and gently urged him out of his chair. He guided Bobby inside. His hand was soft and dry and warm, and Bobby stared at it, mesmerized. Warren led him to one of the chairs and made him sit down.

Still silent, Warren knelt in front of him, between his parted knees. Without looking down, Warren unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off to reveal his bare shoulders. He started working on the buckles of his harness, keeping his gaze locked on Bobby's face. He shrugged the harness off. 

Warren put his hands on Bobby's knees and kept them there, still looking at his face. The moment stretched out between them. Bobby held his breath, dizzy. Just when he thought Warren never would, Warren finally laid a hand over his straining cock, barely contained by his shorts.

Bobby exhaled sharply.

Emboldened, Warren started stroking him through the fabric, watching for his response. Bobby felt hot, the familiar tension rising in him much faster than he wanted it to. This was something to be savoured, to be appreciated, but he was so close already. Just talking about sex with Warren had been enough to get him to the edge, and feeling his hand, possibly feeling his mouth... fuck.

Probably sensing the impending creaming of shorts, Warren pulled his hand away. Bobby almost wept, but then he felt Warren's fingers at his waistband, slipping over skin. He lifted his hips when Warren prodded, letting Warren tug his shorts down his legs. He felt kind of stupid with his shirt still on, but Warren still had his pants on, so maybe that was how they were doing this. 

Warren moved a hand to Bobby's thigh, drawing Bobby's attention back. 

And Warren smiled at him.

Bobby almost lost it then, before Warren even did anything. And when he finally did, his hand curling around the base of Bobby's dick, he almost lost it again. It felt good. Better than good. It felt amazing, exactly like he wanted it to feel, and then Warren's tongue finally touched him... 

Bobby made a small little noise, digging his fingers into Warren's shoulder, warning him, but Warren just opened his mouth a little wider, took Bobby in a little deeper. Bobby kept his hand braced on Warren's shoulder, and tried to fight the feeling, to make it last. He wanted to close his eyes, but then he wouldn't be able to see what his cock looked like slipping into Warren's mouth.

Warren's gaze was still locked on Bobby's face as he bobbed his head, sucking Bobby's dick, cheeks hollow, lips wet, and Bobby came fast, just like that, before he could stop himself. 

Warren swallowed, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, then sat back on his heels. He patted Bobby on the knee then stood. Bobby looked up at him, and Warren smiled again. 

"You okay, buddy?" Warren asked.

"Never better," Bobby told him, not an ounce of a lie in there. 

Warren pressed a kiss to the corner of Bobby's mouth then went into the bathroom and shut the door. Staring after him, Bobby brushed a knuckle over the spot where Warren's lips had touched. 

Dazed, not quite sure what he was supposed to do, Bobby pulled on his briefs then climbed onto the bed. Wasn't he supposed to do something back? Did Warren want him to do something back? Bobby would have. Bobby wanted to. But Warren just came back to the bed, smelling like toothpaste, and flopped onto his belly. Bobby kept waiting until long after Warren fell asleep.

* * *

Bobby expected some level of weirdness the next day, but Warren just went through his usual routine like Bobby's dick hadn't been in his mouth the night before. In the shower, Bobby masturbated furiously under the stream, his free hand braced on the wall. He watched his come circle the drain then disappear. That had been... he could still barely parse what had happened. 

It was just as well they still had a few more days here. If Bobby tried to go back to the school now, he might as well just put up a billboard on the front lawn that said _Warren Worthington sucked my cock and I really, really liked it_. And Warren had been weirdly sweet about it, too. 

"Do you want to go out on the water today?" Warren asked as Bobby came back into the room.

"Okay," Bobby said. 

They grabbed some breakfast then went down to the beach to see if anything was available to rent. The guys tried to talk them into a paddle-boat, eyes flickering to Warren's back, but Warren refused to consider anything less than a catamaran. Eventually, after they both signed a bunch of waivers, they put on their life-jackets and headed down to the water with their blue plastic kayak. 

"How do you even get into this without tipping it over?" Bobby asked, eyeing it suspiciously.

"Just sit down," Warren replied, holding it steady as Bobby got settled then pushing it into the water. With the elegance of a ballet dancer, Warren slipped into the hole at the back, and suddenly they were out in the water, upright and sailing smooth. "I was on the rowing team."

"Of course you were," Bobby said. 

They paddled around for a bit, Warren occasionally instructing him on how to handle a wave without dunking them both. If they really got into trouble, Bobby liked knowing he was surrounded by water and could get them out of it in a pinch, but so far, it was smooth sailing.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Warren asked. 

Bobby glanced back at him, briefly, over his shoulder. "What?"

"Last night. Are you okay with what happened?"

"Are we seriously doing this right now?" Bobby asked, craning his head back to get a look at Warren's face. Warren didn't look the least bit apologetic, which was exactly what he was expecting to see. Bobby quickly turned away. "Yeah, I'm fine with it. It was good. Thanks." 

"I didn't fuck you up?"

"I was fucked up long before that happened. Have you met my dad?" Bobby said, trying to make it sound like a joke, but it didn't feel especially funny to him at that particular moment. He stopped paddling and squinted at some birds in the distance. "You had to know I was into it."

"Some people would argue that a mouth is a mouth when all's said and done." 

"I'm not really one of those people," Bobby said with a small huff of a laugh. He could practically feel Warren's eyes on the back of his neck, watching his every movement. "I liked it, okay? I really liked it, and you made me feel good, and I don't regret a single thing. I promise."

"I'll stop making you talk about it now," Warren said, a warm note of fondness in his voice. 

Bobby snorted. "I'd appreciate that, thanks. I just need to get used to my new reality as a dude who got his dick sucked for the first time."

Behind him, Warren laughed, low and happy, and Bobby found himself smiling, feeling the blush creep up the back of his neck like a vine. "Hey," Warren said. "Can I say one more thing?"

"I'm so proud of you for finally learning to ask before opening your big mouth," Bobby replied. "Go ahead, dude. You have my blessing to make it as mortifying and intrusive as you want."

"You have a really nice cock," Warren told him, and Bobby tipped his head back and laughed.

* * *

They got back to shore in one piece and returned to the pools to hunt down some deck chairs. They lucked out and found two underneath a couple of trees, recently abandoned. After an almost full week of partying the crowd looked a little worse for the wear, but the atmosphere was still bright and sunny, like the amazing weather. Bobby dozed as Warren went off to get drinks. 

"They were running low on ice," Warren said when he got back, sitting down on the edge of his chair. He pressed both drinks to Bobby's belly, making him flinch at the sudden cold. After melting all week, the sharp change in temperature was shocking. "Come on, dude. I'm thirsty."

"You're just using me for my genetics," Bobby replied, pressing two of his fingers to the glasses, making a couple of ice cubes for each one. Satisfied, Warren lifted the drinks off his stomach but didn't move away, just sat there leaning forward, knees bent. "Everything okay with you, buddy?" 

"Yeah," Warren said after a moment. "You ever get tired of feeling like a freakshow?"

"Sometimes," Bobby replied. "Did someone say something to you?"

Warren shrugged. "Nah," he said, "just sometimes... the way people look at me. You know?" 

"There's nothing wrong with you," Bobby said, sitting up and meeting Warren's eyes. 

"And there's nothing wrong with you," Warren parroted back, tipping their drinks together. He laughed suddenly, straightening up and stretching out his legs. "Don't mind me. Whatever, right? I know I'm hot as shit. Hotter than anyone else here," Warren added, with a mean little edge. 

"You're the hottest person I've ever seen," Bobby confirmed without hesitation.

"Fucking right I am," Warren said and laughed again, delighted.

* * *

That night, after dinner at the buffet, they danced and hung out and danced some more. It was still unbearably hot, even though the sun was gone, and Warren had unbuttoned his shirt low enough that sometimes his harness peeked out. From time to time, Bobby reached over to adjust it before anyone noticed. Ideally, if they did, they'd just assume Warren was into the kinky stuff.

Bobby had spent all day thinking about everything, off and on, and he had concluded that he hadn't lied to Warren at all. He'd liked it, Warren had definitely made him feel good, and he didn't regret a single thing. If anyone ever asked how his first time was, he could honestly say it had been really awesome and his partner had been very considerate of his feelings. 

That said... Bobby still wished that Warren had let him do _something_ back. 

That would have been nice. That would have made the whole experience even better. 

Bobby spent all evening thinking about that. He hoped no secret telepaths were hiding in the crowd. His thoughts were absolutely pornographic. Now that he had some frame of context for his desire, the possibilities became endless. Warren, sitting beside him as they took a break, loose-limbed and flirty, definitely wasn't helping matters. Bobby was grateful for the darkness. 

They were joined by a few other revellers, eager to sit and recover and enjoy their drinks. Warren had spread out on the couch they shared, legs wide, one arm slung across the back. The pose made it impossible for Bobby to remain upright, and he just kept sinking closer and closer. 

Once Warren started playing with his hair, Bobby began to suspect it was intentional. 

He didn't know what they were doing, what game they were playing at, but it felt good. Comfortable. Warren was in his element, holding court and mesmerizing the crowd. Bobby wondered what they looked like to others. Would they think... no, Bobby thought quickly, laughing at himself. As if. Warren was out of his league, and besides this was just... spring break.

They were just spring breaking.

Bobby let himself feel one deep moment of longing, anguished and desperate, then neatly packed it all away in that secret part of his mind, even if he could feel the walls of that prison cracking. He already knew he was going to be a mess on Sunday, but it wasn't Warren's fault. It just... was. 

"Hey," Warren said suddenly, low and rumbling. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine," Bobby told him, taking another sip of his drink. "Just thinking."

"You really gotta stop doing that," Warren said, tapping him lightly on the back of the head. 

Bobby's stomach flip-flopped a little at that, and he smiled around his straw. He wouldn't regret this trip. Whatever happened, he wouldn't regret it. And he was going to do his best to ensure he didn't harsh Warren's buzz. He didn't need Bobby's baggage to deal with on top of his own. But the fact he hadn't wanted to come in the first place niggled at him, annoying, like a fly in a room.

He hadn't exactly been honest. That bothered him. That bothered him a lot.

* * *

After the bar shut down, they went back to their room. Warren was acting a little flighty, which normally meant he needed to fly for a bit, but he didn't say anything on the walk back, even though they took a detour down by the water. Bobby himself was pleasantly buzzed, just great.

Warren walked up ahead, hips moving in a swaying hypnotic pattern, bare feet sinking into the sand. From time to time, he glanced back at Bobby, smiling brightly, wind ruffling his hair, but for the most part, he looked ahead, face tilted slightly to the sky. It almost hurt to look at him. 

Bobby dutifully followed Warren, that same desperate longing from earlier curling restlessly low in his belly. He didn't let himself have these moments very often. Hadn't felt worth it before. The jury was still out on if it was worth it now, but that didn't stop him from indulging in the sensation. 

_Those fucking thighs_, he thought helplessly as Warren moved across the beach, mesmerizing in his shorts. He had no idea why Warren wouldn't just wear normal shorts like everyone else, but Bobby's life was immensely better for it, so he resolved never to say anything to dissuade him. 

On the way back to the resort, they washed their feet at one of the little feet-showers. Whatever they were called. Warren placed his hand on Bobby's shoulder, steadying himself as he worked the water between his toes. He wasn't drunk, just buzzed – Bobby could tell the difference now. 

Bobby unlocked the door and stepped aside for Warren to enter first. He put the deadbolt on, and when he turned around, Warren was standing close, smiling at him. He touched one soft hand to Bobby's face, fingers brushing lightly over his jaw. Even though he wasn't cold, Bobby shivered. 

Up against that wall, Warren kissed him. Sweet at first, just a suggestion of lips against lips, his fingers spread over Bobby's neck, still stroking him. Bobby sagged a little with the divine pleasure of it, and Warren inserted a very powerful thigh between his legs, holding him up. 

Warren deepened the kiss, guiding Bobby into it. His usual slobbery technique slid to the wayside, quickly abandoned, replaced by whatever magic Warren was doing to his mouth. Warren tucked a knuckle under Bobby's chin, tilting his head back, and then Warren consumed him entirely, with tongue, using his superior height to keep Bobby pinned there against the wall.

Eventually, Warren pulled back, but he kept his brow bent against Bobby's temple, breath on Bobby's cheek, sweet like pineapple. It came out small and shallow like he'd been out running. Or flying, Bobby realized, looking up at him. Warren smiled faintly and nuzzled him again. 

Bobby reached for the buttons on Warren's shirt and began to undo them, one by one, with embarrassingly slippery fingers. Warren kept his head bent, gaze warm on Bobby's face. He pushed the shirt off Warren's shoulders then moved his hands to the harness, unbuckling each strap, noting how Warren's breath hitched with every pull of the leather then let go with relief.

The harness dropped to the floor. Warren continued to watch him, standing there. Waiting, Bobby realized with a thrill of delight coursing through him. He pulled off his own shirt, dropping it to the floor, and Warren pressed up to him, one hand slung low over Bobby's hip.

Pressed against him, Bobby could feel how hard Warren was, his dick making its need known. Bobby lifted his hand, his finger fanning on Warren's neck and leaned up to kiss him again. Warren made a warm happy noise in his throat, his other hand curving over Bobby's shoulder.

"Go on," Warren prompted, smiling against his mouth.

Bobby dropped his hands to Warren's shorts and peeled the straining blue fabric down over his obvious erection and the perfect roundness of his ass. The shorts dropped off Warren's legs, and he kicked him away, never breaking eye contact. Bobby moved his hands to Warren's hips, sliding them under the waistband of his briefs, over his bare skin, and urging them down his legs.

Fully naked, wings spread out behind him, Warren was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. 

Warren leaned in and kissed him again, his dick bumping against Bobby's belly. Bobby moved his hand over it, touching him, and Warren made a pleased little sound, directly in his mouth. Bobby stroked him experimentally, proud of himself when Warren pushed into his fingers. Bobby didn't know much about any of this sex stuff, but he definitely knew how to touch a dick. 

He jerked Warren for a while, Warren's tongue in his mouth, exploring. His palms roamed Bobby's back for a while as they kissed and Bobby continued to stroke Warren's cock. Warren made an impatient noise, but Bobby continued to take his time. It was Warren's fault, anyway, for letting Bobby take the lead. He'd been waiting years to fondle Warren in a variety of ways. 

Eventually, those same impatient hands tugged at Bobby's shorts, popping the button and unzipping them then pushing the shorts and Bobby's underwear off his hips, all in one easy movement. Warren's fingers skimmed over his entire body, roaming lazily as they continued to kiss. When he stepped forward and erased the space between them, Bobby gasped loudly. 

"You like that?" Warren asked, pressing against him, fully naked, their dicks rubbing together.

"I like everything," Bobby admitted helplessly, grateful for the cold wall against his back. 

"Get us off," Warren told him, kissing over Bobby's exposed neck, taking Bobby's hand and guiding it between them. With Warren's palm hot on his skin, he curved Bobby's fingers around their dicks and showed him how to stroke both of them at once. "Yeah, like that. Feels good."

Bobby only nodded, for once in his life at a loss for words, and Warren kissed him again, wet and hot and wonderful. They rutted against each other, still pressed to the wall, riding higher and higher, until Bobby was coming, pulsing hot over his fingers, keening into Warren's mouth. When he wilted, his knees weak, Warren put that thigh between his legs again, supporting him.

"Keep going," Warren urged him, biting at his mouth. "Make me come, Bobby."

Bobby groaned, barely able to form a coherent thought, but with a slick hand, he started stroking Warren again, controlling the pace and pressure, determined to make Warren pay for having such sexy thighs. All of him was sexy but those thighs were the absolute worst. They haunted him. 

Warren came with his eyes closed, panting into Bobby's mouth, just the most beautiful thing.

* * *

Bobby liked sleep as much as the next person, but they didn't get much of it that night. They eventually moved to the bed, and Warren lay on his side, head propped up on one arm, as Bobby explored his body. It was lazy exploration, curious and careful, taking note of every detail. Despite the fact it was legal, Bobby had not yet worked up the courage to buy any skin mags. 

He wouldn't need to now. Warren had ruined him forever. Nothing would ever be this hot. 

Warren's comfort in his own body made Bobby comfortable. He knew he was hot as shit. Bobby normally found that infuriating, but in this context it felt exactly as it should be. Warren kept touching him, on his arm, his face, his shoulder. It felt as intimate as a hand on his dick. More.

Because it felt like a shame not to, Bobby ended up blowing Warren, sinking to his knees on the tiles, Warren on the bed. His wings were as expressive as he was, feathers fanning when Bobby did something right, pulling in when Bobby did something wrong. He appreciated the feedback. 

"You're so good at this," Warren told him with a silky smooth murmur, which also helped.

It didn't matter whether or not Warren was telling the truth. Bobby liked the feeling of a cock in his mouth, especially knowing it was attached to Warren. Loved how Warren's breath caught in his throat, how his hands moved on Bobby's head, fingers combing through Bobby's hair.

"I'm going to come," Warren said, head tipped back, bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

Bobby pulled off of Warren's dick. "Okay, you just do that then. In my mouth," he added boldly.

Warren made a pleased sound, hips moving on the bed. Bobby took him back between his lips, keenly aware of what was about to happen. It wasn't like he hadn't tasted himself before. It would be fine. It would be... _hot_, Bobby's brain supplied helpfully. If he thought he couldn't get any harder, he was wrong. For once, his brain and dick were in complete agreement about something.

With a low groan, Warren came, fingers twisted in Bobby's hair again, holding his head still as he pulsed into Bobby's mouth. Bobby clamped a hand around his own groin, just in case, and focussed on swallowing, eyes closed, knees aching. Eventually, Warren pulled him up to the bed. 

Warren wiped a thumb over Bobby's lips. "Yeah," he decided, "you're practically made for this."

"Ugh, seriously, you have to stop," Bobby groaned, hand tightening. "I am so fucking close."

"Then it's my turn," Warren told him gleefully, folding his hand over Bobby's then easily moving it away. He leaned over Bobby and kissed him, slicking his tongue into Bobby's mouth, tasting his own come. Bobby made a pained sound. Warren grinned. "You're right there, aren't you?"

Bobby didn't say anything, just tried to hold off, Warren's fingers stroking him, feather-light touch almost too much to bear. Warren took his sweet ass time, bringing Bobby to the edge then holding him there, over and over, until his grip finally tightened. Bobby groaned with relief. 

"Oh, man, you should see yourself right now," Warren said, marvelling. He smiled fondly, continuing to stroke Bobby's dick, the speed of his fist increasing. Moaning, Bobby came again, Warren's hand moving over his cock, his eyes watching him intently. Bobby couldn't look away. 

Bobby thought they might have fucked all night except exhaustion finally took over. During a lazy period of kissing and touching and more kissing, Bobby fell asleep on his back with Warren pressed hot against his side, an arm thrown over Bobby's chest, using Bobby as a pillow. 

He woke up once to pee – drinking was fun and all, but Bobby couldn't wait to sleep through the night again – and returned to a sleepy Warren, who held up his arm for Bobby to slip under. He fell back asleep. Bobby stroked his fingers over Warren's back idly, before finally following him.

* * *

Bobby felt like he was only asleep for seconds before it was noon and Warren was hovering over him on the bed like a weirdo. "Hey, do you have to piss?" he asked, with complete seriousness. 

"Yeah," Bobby murmured, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Why?"

"Just go do it and come back," Warren replied, waving him away. He was, Bobby noticed, still completely naked, and the view was even better in natural light. "Go," Warren said again, sharp.

"Hold your horses, dude, shit," Bobby grumbled irritably, padding into the bathroom. He peed quickly then washed his hands and splashed a bit of the water on his face. He brushed his teeth too, just in case. "Okay, my bladder is empty," he announced, coming back into the main room.

"I'm gonna pop that cherry," Warren told him, flicking a condom at him. "Put that on."

"What?" Bobby asked, somehow managing to catch it. His brain was slowly catching up to the conversation. "There is no way I'm a virgin after last night. I don't care about the rules, but there's just no way. I touched your dick so many times. I had your fucking jizz in my mouth." 

"You're not," Warren assured him breezily. "I just wanted to say it. It sounded good."

"No, it didn't," Bobby told him, but he already had the condom open and was rolling it over his dick. Once he had it on, Warren pushed him onto the bed and climbed over him, lifting onto his knees. Bobby's fingers immediately curved around Warren's thighs, holding on for dear life.

"You want this?" Warren asked, leaning over him, his hands still on Bobby's shoulders. 

"I want this," Bobby confirmed, and Warren kissed him.

* * *

To the end of his days, Bobby would never forget how tight Warren had felt around him and how his hips had moved in Bobby's hands and the way Warren had chewed on his lower lip in deep concentration, eyes closed, head tipped forward, golden hair covering none of his beautiful face.

Magneto could be murdering him to death, and Bobby's last thought would be _well, at least I got to fuck Warren that one time_. The next time Hank droned on about the future of lab-grown meat products, Bobby's mind would be completely in this moment, far away and totally happy. 

Every telepath from this point onwards would be subject to a bonanza of ass-fucking daydreams. It would serve them right, except Bobby couldn't imagine not thinking Warren wasn't the most gorgeous thing ever, in this exact point in time, rocking his hips, with Bobby buried deep inside.

"Feels good," Warren murmured, opening his eyes and smiling at Bobby.

"Totally," Bobby agreed, feeling dizzy and weird and trying really, really hard not to ice out and ruin the moment. His breath was definitely frosting a bit. When Warren bent down and kissed his freezing lips, Bobby came just like that, Warren barely moving, his wings brushing Bobby's toes. 

"Yeah," Warren said, watching Bobby through the pale line of his lashes, leisurely stroking his own cock, "you're made for this." He rolled his hips a few times, fucking himself on Bobby's dick, then came all over Bobby's chest, streaking hot white onto his skin. "Yeah, just like that."

They kissed for a while longer then Warren carefully lifted off of Bobby's cock. With a knowing smile, he removed Bobby's condom himself then wandered off into the bathroom. Bobby just laid there, dazed and out of breath. Warren came back and sat cross-legged beside him, looking pleased with himself. He dreamily traced a finger down the centre of Bobby's chest. Blissfully boneless, Bobby felt like he might never move again, yet he was somehow _still_ a little hard.

"I'm really hungry," Warren said suddenly, his stomach immediately rumbling to prove his point.

"You'll have to go without me. I'm fucked out. I can't move my legs."

"That sounds like a challenge," Warren said, grinning at him, and Bobby groaned helplessly.

* * *

They did, eventually, make it down for lunch. They didn't have sex again, even though they showered together. Bobby knew he was caught up in Warren's orbit, but it was easier just to go with it, to let Warren pull him along. He really liked the way Warren kept looking at him like he was proud of him. He hadn't even complained about Bobby's kissing, though he could have. 

It was hard to look back. Not just because he thought his feelings were all over his face, but because that same thought from yesterday – that he hadn't been honest when Warren had been nothing but – continued to grow in him, sick and heavy. So whatever heartbreak lay ahead – and Bobby was sure there was plenty of it – he probably deserved the pain, even if he dreaded it. 

What happened on spring break, stayed on spring break.

Bobby never should have been here in the first place. 

"Whatever you're thinking about," Warren remarked idly, staring at him over a cup of coffee that smelled like cinnamon, "stop it right now. If I wanted brooding, I would have invited Scott." 

"I barely slept," Bobby protested automatically, lying through his teeth. "You kept me up all night, and then just when I finally fell asleep, you woke me up again. I'm fucking exhausted."

"Scott definitely would have been less fun," Warren agreed with a warm, knowing smile.

Bobby flushed. This vacation had taken such an unexpected turn. If he'd known, he would have tried to be honest with Warren from the onset. Now it felt too late. He didn't know what to do.

* * *

Eventually, they got their shit together enough to get down to the pool and then, when they couldn't find any chairs, down to the beach, where they rolled out their towels and laid them on the sand. As Bobby lay on his belly, dozing, Warren rubbed sunscreen over his back. The slipperiness of the lotion brought back the feeling of the lube. Bobby still had no idea where it'd even come from.

"It's been on the bathroom counter all week," Warren had said, distracted as he slicked them up. 

"I would have noticed lube," Bobby had protested, gritting his teeth and trying not to come. 

It turned out what Bobby had thought was Warren's hair gel was actually lube, which explained why Warren's hair had been so loose and soft around his shoulders all week. How was he supposed to know? He'd never done any of this before. Even with Warren's tutelage, he felt like he was flying blind, careening helplessly from one newly discovered pleasure to the next.

"Done," Warren declared, smacking Bobby on the butt. He rolled onto his belly. "I'm totally going to pass out," he added with a yawn, tugging his hat over the back of his exposed neck. 

"Do you want me to do your legs before you end up like a lobster?" Bobby asked, not completely altruistically. Warren looked at him with a brief smirk then nodded his head. True to his word, Warren was asleep in seconds, and Bobby took his time, watching the waves as they rolled in.

* * *

At dinner, sitting across from Warren in a very fancy à la carte restaurant, Bobby realized this was their last night together, like this, in Cancun. He wanted it to last forever. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to tell Hank the full story, but maybe, if he thought on it for a while, he could come up with a plausible series of events that had led him to finally having sex. He didn't have to mention Warren. He definitely wasn't going to mention it had been with a guy. But maybe. 

Or maybe he was just going to take this whole experience to the grave. That felt equally as likely. He didn't know how long it would take for things to get back to semi-normal with Warren. 

Hopefully not too long. That would be a real bummer otherwise. 

They were both quiet through dinner. Bobby was exhausted on multiple levels, and he was pretty sure one of his feet was sunburned because that was just how he rolled. He thought about begging off for the night and going to bed, maybe seeing if Warren wanted to hook up again, but if this was his last spring break – and he suspected it might be – he wanted to see it through. 

He didn't need a fully functioning liver or an unbroken heart. He just needed more alcohol.

There were so many people out dancing that it was almost possible to dance with each other. Not grind-it-out-on-Warren's-thigh levels of possible, but they could easily stay in each other's space. They stopped occasionally for drinks, crowded together in a corner, out of the way. It was really nice. 

As the night wore on, Bobby forced himself to slow down, to savour this life-changing experience and not be horrifically hungover on the plane the next day. Eventually, the crush of people started getting to him, and he leaned into Warren and shouted, "I just need some air!"

Warren nodded. "Want company?" he shouted back, over the music. 

"Nah," Bobby said, "but if you end up calling it an early night, come and find me?" 

"Okay," Warren agreed, looking hesitant, but he let Bobby go without saying anything else. 

Bobby got a fresh drink then headed to the beach, plopping down in the sand. There were a few people out there, in the dark, some of them walking, others making out, but it was quiet and the salty air smelled clean. He kept his eyes fixed on the horizon, thinking about nothing, making sure he still could. His head was a mess, but eventually things began to quiet. It gave him hope.

* * *

Bobby didn't know how long he'd been out there, but his glass was empty and he was mostly alone. Not entirely though, he thought, catching a glimpse of Warren coming down the path. He looked around and, even in the dark, located Bobby immediately. He came over and sat down. 

Neither of them said anything for a long time. It was Bobby who broke first. 

"I didn't buy my plane ticket," Bobby admitted, staring out over the water, "intentionally." 

Warren hesitated. "Why?" he finally asked. "Because you didn't want to do spring break...?"

"Because I didn't want to do spring break _with you_," Bobby said, glancing over at Warren, who looked about as hurt as Bobby expected him to be. He could see the walls going up as Warren protected himself in the only way he knew how, his shocked expression shifting into a mean one.

"If this is because I... you were into it. You told me you were into it. If you didn't want to..."

"I wanted to. I told you I wanted to," Bobby said, cutting him off. This wasn't going at all how he wanted it to go. Bobby took a deep breath. "It's because I... " He trailed off. He couldn't say it, he realized with horror. He scrubbed a hand viciously over his face. "It's not you, dude. It's me." 

"It's always fucking _me_," Warren snarled, drawing in on himself like an injured animal.

"I was afraid of doing something dumb," he blurted out. "Of, like, getting really drunk and then... saying something or, worse, doing something." Bobby looked down. "That you would know..."

He trailed off again, and Warren continued to regard him unhappily. "Know what?" he asked. 

"There are feelings involved," Bobby forced out, one of his legs bouncing uncontrollably. "From me... about you," he added, pressing a hand forcefully over his knee, trying to make it stop. "I can't... I haven't even let myself think about it, you know? Not you... and not the other thing."

Warren remained silent, his anger sliding into concern. It was almost worse. Bobby endured his scrutiny, feeling like every layer of him had been peeled away. In some ways, he'd been more honest with Warren than he'd ever been with anyone else, but it still didn't feel like enough. 

"It's not that I don't like girls," Bobby said, "but I just don't think I like them like that."

"That's okay," Warren said softly, without hesitation. "You know that's okay, right?"

"Not really," Bobby replied with a shaky little smile. With his leg finally calm, he moved his hand to his mouth, hoping that would hide how close to crying he was. "I'll lose everything," he whispered, voice wobbly. He scrubbed at his eyes. "I just want to make my parents happy."

Warren didn't say anything. Bobby wasn't sure if Warren's parents had known he was a mutant. 

"I know I can't change this about myself," Bobby confessed. Hank had once lectured him on the science behind being gay, which had involved a lot of facts about mallards that Bobby had never wanted to know. "But I can just... delay it a bit. Do what they want for a while, get my CPA, and then break the bad news I am probably into dudes. If anyone is even crazy enough to date me..."

"I guarantee you that there is someone that crazy," Warren said.

Bobby snorted derisively. "Oh, yeah, right. Can you imagine what dinner with my folks would be like? What man in his right mind would willingly subject himself to something like that?"

"I would."

Bobby went cold then tried to laugh it off. "Don't say shit like that. God. Why would you even...? You've really committed to this whole get me laid thing, haven't you? You don't date men."

Warren looked miserable again. "I have. Once. It didn't end particularly well. He was more into me than I was into him. I couldn't handle that so I flaked. We're still friends but..." Warren shrugged. "I guess you could say nerdy guys with bad haircuts are totally my type. Surprise."

Bobby tilted his head then got it suddenly. He ignored the dig at his hair. "Oh, shit. Really?" 

Warren nodded.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"Why didn't _you_ ever say anything?" Warren snapped back, heckles up again. He looked over at Bobby, who stared back, then sighed deeply. "This stuff is hard to figure out, okay? All of it. Sex, dating, love... you think I have all my shit together, and I don't. Not even close. Do you want to know why I even wanted to go on spring break in the first place? Even though it meant having to spend the entire week harnessed, low-key terrified of anyone noticing I have wings? Because my grades aren't good enough to let me transfer to Yale on merit. Because I'm too _dumb_ to carry on that particular Worthington tradition, and that's all my parents fucking wanted, and I... needed to get away for a bit. Have fun. Feel normal. Just for one fucking week, you know?"

"You're not dumb," Bobby said automatically, parsing everything Warren had just spit out. 

"They don't understand – just like everybody I've ever dated hasn't understood – how amazing it is to fly, you know? How incredible it is to be different like we are." Warren's shoulders lifted haplessly. "Yeah, whatever, we have to hide, everyone hates us for it... but it's awesome, right?" 

"It is awesome," Bobby agreed. "Icing up is the best feeling in the world. I love it."

"So fuck them, okay? Be who you want to be. Don't be scared. Me and Scotty and Jeannie and Hank, we'll be there to catch you. We'll be there for each other," Warren said, clearly meaning it.

Bobby nodded, feeling his eyes well up with tears again, and this time, he actually cried.

* * *

Bobby bawled his eyes out for a bit, drunk and emotional. Warren rubbed his back, not saying anything. Eventually, he stopped, and then they sat there for a long time, shoulder to shoulder. Bobby felt a little better, and he couldn't believe Warren had been the first time person he'd ever come out to. He'd always thought it would have been Hank, though Bobby suspected he already knew.

But he'd also never had sex with Hank, so maybe it did make sense. 

"How long?" Warren asked eventually. "How long have you been into me?"

"About thirty seconds before you punched me out, that first time we met." Bobby mostly just remembered the headache that followed and how useless he and Scott had been, trying to recruit an extremely reluctant Warren to join the X-Men, but his very first thought had been _oh shit_. 

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

"Nope," Bobby admitted easily.

Warren made a noise at that, clearly disgruntled, but he didn't push the conversation further. 

"Were you serious before?" Bobby asked instead. "About dating me?"

"Yeah," Warren said, a serious expression on his face. "I mean, I make a shitty boyfriend, but... if you wanted to try, we could. Just don't be weird about it if it doesn't work out. I _really_ can't do that again, and I want to work with you in the future. As a superhero, _not_ as an accountant."

"I might have to be both," Bobby admitted. "For a little while, at least." He swallowed, wishing he had something to drink but also acknowledging that was probably a terrible idea. "And even if we tried, I might make us sneak around a bit, just until I'm ready."

"The Professor is a telepath," Warren pointed out. "Jean is, too."

"Yeah, and right now all they know is I have an unhealthy fascination with your thighs."

"That's how I knew you might be interested, by the way. You kept looking at them."

"You wear the shortest shorts in existence, dude. How can anyone not look at them?"

"But you wanted them around you," Warren said, clearly convinced, and Bobby exhaled sharply, unable to disagree. He'd lied to Warren enough. As if sensing his thoughts, Warren put a hand on the side of Bobby's head. He leaned in to kiss him, and Bobby sat there and totally let him. 

A couple of drunk frat boys stumbling past whooped at the sight, getting ready to say something that Bobby was pretty sure he wasn't in any frame of mind to get through, but Warren stepped up. "Mind your own fucking business," he snapped, puffing up like a hawk protecting its nest.

"Jeez, bro, relax," one of them said. "It's spring break. We're all a little gay right now. "

Warren stared at them until they left. Bobby didn't know whether to laugh or laugh harder, for a bunch of different reasons. Smiling, Warren kissed him again then pulled him to his feet. They held hands all the way back to the room, and Bobby only felt a little self-conscious about it all.

* * *

It was late, but their flight was early and they still had to pack. In addition to their passports, their wallets and Warren's harness, the Professor had sent a suitcase and two return plane tickets. Since they'd packed really light, it was easy to force all their stuff in together with room to spare.

"What do you wanna do now?" Warren asked, plopping down beside Bobby on the bed. "Sleep?"

"Nah, we can sleep on the plane," Bobby replied. "We've been ignoring this hot tub all week. Though isn't it kinda weird there's a hot tub in the main room? Why would anyone want that?"

Warren raised an eyebrow. "Are you just now noticing they put us into the honeymoon suite?"

"What? No, they didn't." Bobby looked around, at the majestic hot tub surrounded by flowing gauzy curtains, at the perpetually filled bowl of ripe mangoes, at the gigantic king-sized bed. "Okay, maybe they did. But this is basically up against the window. Can't everyone see in?"

"Only if they have wings," Warren replied. "Come on, take off your clothes. I'm going to show you why that hot tub exists. Since we're not getting any sleep tonight, we might as well fuck."

"Might as well," Bobby agreed, grinning when Warren leaned in and kissed him. 

As Warren turned on the hot tub, Bobby quickly stripped down. He allowed himself to watch appreciatively while Warren undressed. Once the tub was filled, Bobby stepped into it, hissing at the shock of heat. Warren turned it on, the water bubbling around Bobby's legs. He sat down.

"That feels good," Warren said, settling next to him, wings hanging over the edge.

"Yeah," Bobby agreed, looking at the moon shining high in the sky. He felt a bit better about space, a little more grounded, and that was... good. Unexpected. "Are we actually doing this?" 

"We're actually doing this," Warren confirmed, taking one of Bobby's hand and putting it on his thigh. "And for the record? I'm totally bi. I'm also legitimately sorry about that concussion."

"I kinda deserved it. Scott and I were still working out the kinks in our recruitment program." Bobby tipped his head onto Warren's shoulder, keenly aware of where his hand was. He still couldn't believe he was allowed to touch now. "And I'm… I'm gay. I couldn't say that before."

"You're saying it now," Warren told him, pressing a cheek into his Bobby's hair, ruffling it with his breath. "That counts. It would have counted if you'd said it ten years from now or a hundred years from now. But thanks, man. For everything but especially for coming with me on this trip." 

"Dude, you suck," Bobby groaned, flustered and desperately trying to redirect those unsettled feelings, even if it had more or less worked out in the end. Right now, at least, things felt pretty good. "You should have said _hi, Gay, I'm Warren_ back. That would have been a funny joke."

"Not as long as I still have self-respect, it wouldn't have been," Warren replied, horrified. 

Bobby laughed and slid over Warren's beautiful thighs, determined to make it up to him.

**Author's Note:**

> **Additional Warnings**:
> 
> _Drunk Sex_: When sexual contact occurs while people have been drinking, the people remain coherent, in control of their actions and able to consent. No one is ever blackout or passed out drunk when sexual contact occurs. No one regrets any drunk sex. 
> 
> _Alcohol_: Bobby and Warren are at an all exclusive resort. They drink a lot... occasionally to excess and beyond. There are references to vomiting, but nothing in detail.
> 
> _Internalized Homophobia_: There are minor incidents where Bobby has thoughts of internalized homophobia. It is not the focus of the story. 
> 
> _Ableism_: Image inducers do not exist yet. Warren's wings are harnessed underneath button-up shirts. People do notice his back and on two occasions comment or attempt to make decisions for him. 
> 
> **Author's Notes**:
> 
> First draft written between July 22nd and 25th in what can only be described as a state of pure bliss. I clearly love the genre of X-Men on (well-deserved) vacations.
> 
> This story exists solely because years ago I read _Iceman and Angel #1_ and every atom in my body wanted the rest of the story, so I wrote it myself. Without re-reading the issue first. Enter the AU – Canon Divergence tag. This story is basically _What if... Iceman and Angel arrived in Cancun wearing only their X-Men uniforms?_ There are other points of divergence, but this is the first one. 
> 
> The time period this story takes place in is purposely ambiguous. It is both late 60s... and not. It is also a hybrid of two comics continuities. Probably takes place after _X-Men: The Hidden Years #22_ and right before _X-Men First Class: Finals #1_, but to be perfectly honest that Iceman and Angel one-shot is incredibly difficult to place in canon, so it really doesn't matter at all! 
> 
> And finally: I can also be found on [Tumblr](https://atangeriner.tumblr.com/) and on Discord as Tangerine#1082.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Spring Breaking- Art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21042959) by [BlitheFool](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlitheFool/pseuds/BlitheFool)


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